


Accidental Habit

by ShootingFromAfar



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blizzard of '68 (Rise of the Guardians), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad Jack Frost (Guardians of Childhood), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27982599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingFromAfar/pseuds/ShootingFromAfar
Summary: The first time was an accident.The second, not so much.By the third, Jack gave into the fact that he’d developed a habit.AKA: Jack's hiding something, and the Guardians are more than a little concerned for their Winter Spirit.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 225





	Accidental Habit

**Author's Note:**

> 🚧 PLEASE BE CAUTIOUS IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED BY SELF HARM/SUICIDE ATTEMPTS!! 🚧
> 
> 💛 I don’t encourage any form of self harm or suicidal ideation, but I do want you to know that you’re not alone if you’re suffering right now. If you're not in a good state of mind, there are resources available, and I encourage you to reach out, even if it’s not to a professional, a friend can be just as helpful!! Please take care of yourself!! Your life is extremely precious!! 💛

The first time was an accident. 

...Sort of.

In Jack’s defense, he hadn’t exactly meant to ball his fists hard enough to leave crescent shaped bruises in his palms, but some local dryads had decided pissing off a most certainly  _ not  _ lucid Old Man Winter on Easter Sunday was a great idea, and the force of will necessary to keep the resulting blizzard from taking out that side of the globe, made the little pain used to concentrate on that insurmountable task, quite frankly inconsequential.

But when an inhuman fist hit Jack’s jaw with bruising force, and an irritated Pooka screamed his fury about what was really only a little snow compared to the earlier disaster, at the guy keeping the biggest storm the world had probably ever seen, from killing half the planet… well. 

Jack had to wrap his palms, as well as his ribs for weeks after.

. . . .

The second time, not so much.

Jack was so freaking  _ sick  _ of not being seen, not being believed in, and then The flipping Easter Bunny had the  _ audacity  _ to lecture him on the importance of protecting children? As if he hadn't been doing just that his entire immortal life??

The  _ nerve  _ of that guy!

And of course the insufferable Pooka had to hit Jack on one of his off days, when everything hurt just a little bit more and his thoughts were a tangled mass of self-hatred, inadequacy, and a numb acceptance that scared him more than anything else had managed to do throughout his immortal life.

He was already teetering dangerously close to the edge, and in the end all it took was a 4-year-old girl with stringy blonde hair, lime green rain boots, and a pair of wire butterfly wings bouncing through the winter spirit, and he just snapped.

By the time he’d stopped screaming, his lake looked like something out of a horror movie.

There was jagged, spiked ice everywhere the eye could see, and streaks of red decorated the volatile surface. A small teenager in a tattered cloak and button-up, lay sprawled in the center of his destruction, breathing through a calamity that had settled like the pool of red into dry, hard packed dirt.

The moon just watched.

. . . .

By the third time, Jack had given into the fact that he’d developed a habit.

But at that point, it was far too late to stop.

He’d long since learned what he did was called self harm, and generally settled on a method the humans called ‘cutting’. His newly acquired blue hoodie hid his scarred wrists well, and though he gave an honest effort to only fall back on blades of ice when things were desperate, the days were long and lonely, and his centuries-long frustration at the moon grew. Needless to say, the scars built up quickly.

But then he was a guardian.

Suddenly Jack had everything he'd wanted, all wrapped up with a pretty little bow. 

Friends, believers, and memories surrounded him in a glow he might call warm. He had people to rely on, children that looked up to him, and the closest thing he’d had to a family since emerging from the ice. He should be happy. He  _ should _ .

But the bad days still came, and with them, a crooning voice that haunted Jack in the dead of night. Pitch's words echoed in his ears. A mantra of poisonous ideas, serving as a constant reminder that this fleeting happiness wouldn’t last. 

It was a weight dragging him down into the dark confines of a shadowy lair and the broken eggshells of a ruined Easter.

Jack did his best, but after hundreds of years of habit, disappointment, and aching loneliness, the urge never really went away.

Every time he formed his cold, crystal blade, he thought in passing about asking for help, but Jack shook away the idea before it could evolve into a plan.

The guardians, though kind, caring, and wonderful, had little to no contact with the children of the world in the past few centuries, and therefore would likely never understand.

It was disheartening, but Jack wouldn't let it bother him. 

He was the guardian of fun after all, and he had a job to do. So he buried himself in snowball fights and visits to Jaime, trying to ignore the itch under his skin.

. . . .

The monthly meeting was due to start soon and Aster had been asked to fetch their resident smartass winter spirit.

Since his initiation into guardianship, the immortal child had taken a shine to North's workshop, often found rallying the elves for pranks, chatting with the Yetis, or helping the Big Man with his ice sculpture toy models.

Today, North pointed Aster toward the library, claiming to have seen the youngster slip inside an hour before the meeting started.

The Pooka didn't hesitate to swing the door open and stroll into a generally quiet space with a cheerful greeting. 

“Heya, Frostbite. North said you’d be-”

Aster stopped in his tracks, mouth closing with an audible click.

The kid was asleep, dangling precariously off the couch in a way that broke possibly every rule of gravity, but it wasn’t the position the kid had fallen asleep in, nor the fact that this was the first time any of the Guardians had ever witnessed their teammate sleeping that had stopped Aster cold. No, it was the marks on a pale arm, no longer carefully concealed by blue, frost covered sleeves.

White, pink, and especially recent looking red lines harshly contrasted with the milky white of the teen’s skin.

Aster moved forward, as if in a daze, reaching to tug the offending sleeve further up, revealing more cuts and scars. Horizontal, vertical, diagonal. Some seemed to be placed with care, parallel and even, while others were deep and sporadic, as if Jack attacked his forearms in a rage.

Aster felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, heart in his stomach. He was the guardian of hope, the avatar of new beginnings, and here was a child, a friend, an ally, suffering right under his nose.

A few rapid blinks cleared his vision, and he pulled the fabric up to Jack’s elbow, growing more distraught as the scars kept going. What felt like hours of horror-filled staring, really only seconds, and the sense of being watched must have registered to the kid because he began to stir.

Aster thought about pulling away, but his body refused to move as Jack’s eyes blinked open with a yawn and a muttered, “Bunny?”

“Jack…”

Something in Aster’s voice must have alarmed the gumby, because his eyes grew wider, instantly alert and taking in his surroundings. 

After searching the library with a critical eye, Jack locked eyes with Bunny. The Pooka was giving him a look he couldn’t determine. HIs eyes were glazed with a thin sheen of tears, and he flicked his gaze down to Jack’s arm, held carefully with one paw. 

Jack followed his line of sight, immediately stiffening.

He yanked his sleeves down, heart hammering in his chest as he gave a valiant attempt to vault over the couch, but with his legs weak from the recent nap and staff out of reach, it took little effort for Bunny to grab him by the shoulders and plant him back on his seat.

A moment later Jack’s face was pressed into a shoulder covered in fur, thoroughly confused. He was expecting yelling, or hitting, or anything really. However, minutes ticked by and nothing but a quiet sniffling broke the gentle silence libraries tended to exude. 

Starting to get a little claustrophobic and overwhelmed, Jack slowly disentangled himself from the firm, yet gentle grip to look into the Easter Spirit’s eyes, searching for any sign of anger, but there was none.

"Bunny?" Jack asked softly.

Bunny just looked at him, his eyes shiny from unshed tears. “Jacky… Why?”

“I…” Jack stared at his lap, no longer able to hold Bunny’s gaze, but as he looked away from the devastated expression on his friend’s face, defensive anger rose to the surface. 

"What do you mean  _ 'why' _ ? I was alone for 300 years. It’s bound to happen, and I honestly don't understand why you're so upset. You  _ hate  _ me."

Bunny only let out a sad noise, and hugged Jack closer. They rocked back and forth slowly, as Bunny tried to find the words he’d need to reach the immortal teenager.

“I don’t hate you mate. Yah pissed me off when we first met, and I held onto that far longer than I should’ve, but dammit kid, you’re real important to me and the others. I could never hate yah.”

"You're not mad at me," Jack whispered.

He'll admit, that hurt Bunny slightly... but in a way he knew he deserved. He’d been careless and upset in the past, and the damage that inflicted on the winter spirit wouldn’t just go away with a few pretty words.

“Nah, kid. I’m not mad.”

They sat, reveling in the comfortable silence Bunny's words had given the room, until Jack cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, does this mean I don’t have to tell the others?”

“Not on your nilly. We’re all gonna have a long conversation about this.” Bunny informed him unapologetically, and there was really only one answer for that.

“Fuck.”

. . . .

Jack reasons with himself on the way to the Guardian’s designated meeting room. 

_ Alright, so Bunny took his… habit surprisingly well, and he’s not positive, but maybe when the rest of the guardians find out, it won’t be that bad. _

A door cracked open, and Jack stumbled back a few feet, holding an armful of sobbing feathers before his eyes could process the movement.

_ Screw that. Jack’s a liar, everything’s definitely bad. _

Tooth flew at him faster than he’s ever seen her go, and considering she’s part hummingbird, that’s  _ fast _ .

Jack immediately went the comfort route, rubbing her back and letting his words flow out in a consoling tone. “Whoah, hey! Tooth, it’s okay! I’m alright, I prom-”

“No, you’re  _ not! _ ” The fairy queen’s voice is high and cracking, but she yelled through it anyway. “You’re  _ not  _ okay Sweet Tooth! Don’t you  _ dare  _ give me a fake promise!”

“I- okay. I won’t promise, but you need to breathe and hear me out.” 

The arms around him squeeze tighter, and Jack frowns.

“Please, Toothiana.”

She holds on for a second longer, and then lets go. Jack lets out a relieved sigh, only to squeak as he’s lifted off his feet and practically crushed in a bearhug like none other Jack’s experienced. 

“North. Need to breathe, big guy.” Jack wheezes with the last of the air in his lungs.

North’s arms loosen slightly, but don’t grant Jack freedom quite yet. “Pain is not to be depended on, Jack. In heat of battle, can be good, but not sought out. You understand?”

Jack smiles into a firm shoulder. “Yeah, I gotcha. Thanks, Santa.” 

He’s set back on his feet, and the winter spirit braces himself for another round of invasive comfort, but Sandy only looks at him with a deep pain reflected in his golden eyes.

Jack crouches to be at his level, with a whispered, ‘sorry, Sandy’.

The Dreamweaver only shakes a finger in Jack’s face and makes a heart in his sand.

The immortal teen smiles, “Yeah, I love you too little man.”

With the preliminary greeting done with and out of the way, Jack’s left with a room full of anticipating spirits. He sighs, plopping down onto his favorite chair, and they follow.

“I imagine you have questions.”

He receives nods all around, but there’s still a few moments where no one speaks, before the silence is unsurprisingly broken by Tooth.

“When did this…” She trails off, unable or unwilling to finish her sentence, Jack isn’t sure, but he answers all the same.

“Honestly, I’m not even sure. I always found it easiest to focus when in pain, but if I had to pinpoint a specific year…” He glances apprehensively at Bunny, knowing his next words aren’t going to be easy for the Pooka. “1768 was probably it.”

Bunny’s eyes widen, and his ears go flat against his head. “Was it… Did I… That storm… Were you trying to-”

Jack shakes his head quickly. “No, no, no! It wasn't that! I’d been kinda doing it before, but that year was probably when everything just hit me, and I snapped.”

“Are you suicidal?” North pipes up quietly, and Jack blanches.

“No, no way, nuh-uh, nope. Got too much to do and too many to care about.”

“But if they wouldn’t miss you, would you kill yourself?” Tooth asked quietly.

Hook, line, and sinker. Jack sucked in a breath, wringing his hands, and let it out slowly. “I’m not… honestly I’m not entirely sure, but I hope that day never comes.”

Sandy floated into Jack’s line of sight, forming a clock, and calendar, and a question mark.

“How often do I do it?” Jack asked to clarify, and when Sandy nodded, he tipped his head back to consider. “Uh… it kinda depends, but recently I’ve gotten it down to about once a week.”

“That’s an improvement!?”

Jack shot Bunny a look. “Yes, it in fact is, and I won’t tolerate any hassling on the subject because it took me a long time to be able to resist going at it every night.”

The room went still for a moment, Jack breaking it with a sigh. “Sorry, I’m a little… touchy on my progress.”

“That’s fine, Jack. I’m proud of you for what you’ve managed to do.”

“Thanks, Tooth.”

“Do any of your current injuries need medical attention?”

Jack shrugged. “I mean, I don’t think so?”

“Would you allow us to take a look?”

Jack’s shoulders began to hunch in, “Uh… I don’t know… It’s not pretty.”

“Come on Jackie, let us dress them at the least.” Bunny gently goaded.

Jack bit his lip, unsure, but Sandy floated up, placing a supportive hand on the kid’s knee, and the blue-clad teenager sighed in resignation.

“Fine, but we’re doing this in the infirmary.” He relented.

“Should I get Yeti?” North asked, already on the way out the door.

“No.” Jack snapped, stopping in his tracks.

Four pairs of eyes stared at him in various states of worry. 

The teen looks thoughtful for a moment. “Okay… maybe Phil.”

“Why Phil?” Tooth inquires, fluttering up to Jack’s side as the group starts on their way to the infirmary.

The winter spirit chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, I used to try breaking into the Workshop.”

“Why the bloody hell would yah wanna do that?” Bunny huffs, seemingly baffled.

“Loneliness mostly.” Jack shrugs noncommittally, carefully refusing to acknowledge the flinches that go alongside his casual admission. “But for the longest time I never got past the Yetis. No matter what I tried, they’d catch me and throw me out, but one night I was in the area after going a round with a horde of winter sprites, and I passed out in a snowbank near one of the service entrances. Woke up in the infirmary with Phil mother-henning my injuries.”

“I did not hear of such thing.” North mutters, eyes sad.

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Really? That’s kinda weird… but anyway, after that Phil and a few others would let me sit beside them while they worked as long as I didn’t throw any snowballs or cause too much chaos with the elves.”

“How long have you been visiting the Workshop?” Tooth asks with a little too much interest

“Hundred years or so. I didn’t visit a ton, mostly during the summer to cool off, or when I got in a fight with another spirit and needed some bandages or something.” Jack admitted, gaze distant with memories.

“I’m surprised yah never noticed the gumby.” Bunny snorted, giving North a side-long glance.

Jack chuckles. “Oh, I stayed pretty far outta the way. Didn’t know if I was welcome with anyone but the Yetis, so I mostly hung around less-populated areas.”

“Do they know about…”

“The self-harm? Yeah, Phil does. He’s seen them while dealing with other injuries.” Jack admits easily enough, ignoring another flinch at the mention of what he does to himself.

Tooth rings her hands nervously. “And did they ever try to get you to stop?” 

“Oh yeah, just about every time I see them.” Jack admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head.

Four pairs of eyes follow the movement, not bothering to hide the concern over what exactly could be hiding under the bright sleeves. 

Jack notices, eyes losing some of their sparkle as he drops his arm, shoving his hands into his pockets uncomfortably.

Before the silence could get too long though, a door flies open with a force strong enough to crack the wall, and Jack brightens visibly.

"Phil!!" He calls cheerfully, launching himself at the Yeti in question.

To his credit, Phil seems unphased by the armful of cold teenager he receives, muttering quietly and ruffling snow-white hair.

“ _ Hurf morph farfle jon _ ?” ( _Are you alright, Snowflake?_ ) Phil questions as he places Jack gently back on the floor. 

Jack rocks back on his heels, with an eye roll. "Yeah, I'm fine. But uh.. they know about the sleeves thing.” He admits awkwardly, jerking a thumb at the group behind him.

Phil gives the Guardians a suspiciously hostile look.

Jack floats a few feet in the air, blocking Phil's view of the four spirits behind him. "Whoah hey! It's cool, they didn't give me a hard time or anything! Actually we were just heading to the infirmary."

" _ Darphel stragh bloich _ !?" ( _Where are you hurt!?_ ) Phil exclaims, eyes widening in concern as he gives the teenager a critical onceover. 

"I said I'm  _ fine _ !" Jack huffs. "They just wanna make sure nothing's infected or whatever."

Phil frowns. " _ Harphen darlf _ ?" ( _They're coming?_ )

"Yeah, I think they're worried."

Phil huffs, but turns and shambles down the hallway.

Jack sends him a winning smile, before gesturing to the others with much less enthusiasm. "Let's get this over with."

. . . .

The rest of the walk to the infirmary should be awkward, all things considered, but Jack and Phil fill it with meaningless small talk, assumingly catching up. 

They’re stopped multiple times on the way, by various Yeti calling enthusiastic greetings or ruffling Jack’s hair, and the winter spirit shoots North a mischievous smirk when the man mutters something about ‘being more popular than boss’.

Jack’s cheerfulness becomes strained when faced with the door to their destination, and Phil sets a careful hand on the teen’s shoulder.

“Darphen snargol besin glorph.” ( _I'm proud of you, Snowflake. But you can send them away._ ) The Yeti reassures quietly, coaxing a very small, but very real smile out of the winter spirit.

“Thanks, but I think I need to do this.” Jack replies, taking a deep breath and pushing the doors open.

Mercifully, it’s empty, and he heads for a blue and white curtain with the practiced steps of someone who’s familiar with their surroundings.

The little group hesitates, suddenly unsure.

“Jack, if you’re not comfortable with this, we’d be happy to let Phil take care of you.” Tooth recommends carefully, the others nodding along with her statement.

The teen in question pauses for a second, before his shoulders straighten, and when he turns around there’s determination in his arctic blue eyes.

“I appreciate that, but I’m sure y’all are gonna end up seeing sooner or later, and I’d honestly rather it be on my terms. Besides, It’s only so that Phill can wrap me up, and he’s pretty quick.”

“If you’re sure, mate.” Aster hedges.

Jack grins. “I’m positive."

Sandy sends the teen another sand heart as they pull aside the curtain to reveal a personalized medical cot, and Jack catches it with a laugh, freezing it in its shape, and tossing it back to the little man, before plopping down on the bed.

Phil busies himself pulling out a first aid kit ad a few rolls of bandages, gesturing at Jack to remove his sweater as he sets them down on the cot beside the teen.

Jack’s hands tremble as he pulls at the hem, but he keeps his gaze firmly on Phil, trying not to react to the sharp inhales as it’s tugged over his head.

He knows the sight isn't pretty. 

Pale skin marred by hundreds of thousands scars from the various fights and suicide attempts he’d made over the years coupled with the crisscross of raised lines on his arms. He knows exactly what they’re seeing, but he fills the empty space with meaningless chatter, resolutely not looking in their direction until his hoodie is firmly back in place.

As soon as he meets the gazes of his... friends, he has friends now, he desperately wishes he could disappear. 

Not a single one of their eyes is dry, and the sheer amount of compassion they’re radiating makes his chest clench uncomfortably. He’s never been proud of what he’s done to himself, but seeing people who so obviously care for him visibly upset on his behalf only strengthens his desire to put his unhealthy coping mechanisms behind him for good.

_ Because despite how bad some days get, _ he thinks as he’s brought into the group hug of a lifetime,  _ there are people who love him, and that’s reason enough to stop. _

**Author's Note:**

> Heyooo!! :)
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a hot second, and I know this fandom isn't super active anymore, but I wanted to post it anyway, cuz I'm sad and a sucker for Jack angst. >.<
> 
> So anywho, stay safe y'all!! Happy Wednesday! :D


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